Huntress: Mother, In Thy Name
by zAtAnnA zAtArA
Summary: NEW CHAPTER TWO! Helena Bradley (Selina and Bruce Wayne's secret love child) moves to Gotham to uncover the mystery surrounding her mother's death, and in the process becomes the Huntress. Give it a try, please?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these characters are mine. Rather (and perhaps thankfully), they are from the imaginations of (as well as the property of) the brilliant minds of the people who bring to life the DC Comic Universe.  
  
Arkham Asylum, Gotham City  
  
"Come give me a kiss, Dr. Bradley. I promise you, all you'll feel is pleasure. And then nothing. But a pleasurable nothing." Poison Ivy said seductively to Dr. Helena Bradley.  
  
"Missing Harleen Quinzel, Pamela?" Helena asked politely, a wry smile upon her face. "Or do we just want to try and break out again? I honestly think that turning Earth back into the Garden of Eden is a futile effort."  
  
"You're rude, for a psychiatrist, Dr. Bradley. Didn't your parents teach you any manners." Ivy pouted as she played with the vines of a rare South American plant. The two women were in a room in Arkham Asylum that had virtually been converted into a green house. Pamela Lillian Isley, also known as Poison Ivy, was sprawled rather seductively on a bed of rose petals. Helena Bradley, the newest addition to Arkham's rapidly depleting number of psychiatrists, was seated on a wrought iron chair that was nailed firmly to the ground. It was the room in which Poison Ivy and Dr. Helena Bradley had been meeting together everyday for the past month since Helena had started her new job at the asylum.  
  
"Not when dealing with hormonally imbalanced psychopaths, Miss Isley."  
  
"Pity," she replied, "considering that your mother was one." Ivy smiled as she shot a look of thorns at Helena. The twenty-six-year-old flared up inside but kept her emotions in check. Violent rage would do her no good in here, sadly.  
  
"My mother was not a hormonally imbalanced psychopath."  
  
"Let me see...She had the hots for, and followed by an affair with, the Batman. There's your hormones. She stole, plundered, and might have even killed. There's your psychopath. And she fell off of a roof to her death, didn't she? I'd say that was imbalanced."  
  
"I think you're just jealous," Helena countered, mildly aware that she was going off-topic. "I think you hated my mother because she had gained the Batman's affections and you hadn't. I think we need to discuss what your need is to bring up my mother nearly twenty-four years after you two last met."  
  
"I don't want to discuss anything regarding Catwoman," Poison Ivy said, spitting out the word 'Catwoman' as though it were a vile word.  
  
"All evidence points to the contrary," Helena pointed out as she tucked a strand of her shiny obsidian black hair behind her ear. Her drop earrings glittered in the sunlight and caught Ivy's eye.  
  
"Pretty," Poison Ivy remarked, off-handedly.  
  
"I thought you had no use of material possessions," Helena asked.  
  
"I don't. It was your mother who had the use of those."  
  
"Again with my mother. I really think we need to pursue this line of your life, Pamela." Helena prodded once more.  
  
"I actually think we're done for the day, little kitty," Pamela countered.  
  
"I'll see you again tomorrow, Pamela. And I have full intention of going on with the topic of Catwoman when we do."  
  
"Then maybe I won't come."  
  
"You have no choice besides death, Miss Isley."  
  
"So be it then."  
  
Helena shook her head and sighed, knowing full well that, in the past week or so, this had been a common threat of Poison Ivy's. She stood up and, straightening out her georgette shirt and cashmere sweater, left the room, motioning for the two guards to take Poison Ivy back to her own cell.  
  
As Helena walked back to her office, her stiletto heels clicking and clacking on the linoleum floors of Arkham's corridors, her mind flashed back to just a couple of months ago. When all of this mess had begun, all of the mess which had caused Helena to pack her bags and leave sunny, peaceful Coast City for the darker, more Gothic Gotham.  
  
Helena had just returned from finishing up her PhD in Criminal Psychology in London, and had moved back to Coast City to be once more with her parents, former private eye Slam Bradley, and her mother, former thief and now sparkling socialite Selina Kyle-Bradley, while she figured out what next to do with her life. Having grown up in London, spending only the winters and summers with her parents, Helena didn't know much about their lives before Coast City, of who they had been, or where they had come from. She just had a happy little picture of her tough-talking, as yet young- looking and ultra-debonair father, and her cat and diamonds obsessed mother. This image had shattered when she moved back.  
  
One night, her first week in Coast City, Selina had a visitor who, it had seemed to Helena, was very intimate with the charming sophisticate. He had introduced himself to Helena, who had answered the door of her parent's over-sized, plush California mansion, as and old friend named Stewart Kern. Helena had summoned her maid, a woman named Allana who had traveled with Helena all the way back from England, to summon Selina into the formal living room. Allana went to do so while Helena showed him the way. After leaving him in the sage, vanilla, and caramel colored room, Helena had taken her leave of him, leaving her mother to do her socializing.  
  
The incident was forgotten after a few days, when all had resumed living their lives of luxury and contentment. Selina and Slam were busy with their social lives, and Helena was trying to find a position somewhere so that she could move on with her life. Then, suddenly, one day Selina announced that she would be going to Gotham City for an important social benefit. Helena and Slam had both insisted that one of them, if not both, join her on this trip as they were, by blood, Gothamites. Selina had politely refused and had left one sunny, ultra-Californian Thursday morning.  
  
It was two days later, on Saturday night, that the news had reached them. The national news was reporting the death of Catwoman. Slam was stunned and shocked, knowing full well what this meant. The news didn't matter so much to Helena until her father sat her down and explained to her who Catwoman truly was. Helena was at first stunned, shocked, and disbelieving. But she didn't know Selina well enough to truly be able to say, "But that was definitely not in her character."  
  
Slam knew Selina though. He knew her almost as well as the caped crusader known as the Batman knew her. But he, too, was in disbelief over Selina's sudden re-emergence in the mantle of the cat. He realized, then, that he shouldn't have been. Catwoman had always been a core part of Selina, so much so that Selina herself had once confessed that she didn't know where Catwoman began and Selina Kyle ended, because one had lost herself so much in the other. But realizing that one day Selina would have put on the mask and suit anyway didn't help getting over her death (her murder?) any easier. It made it all the more harder because he realized that, no matter what; he would have never been able to stop Selina from doing what she wanted.  
  
Slam, overwrought by Selina's death, lost himself in misery and grief. Helena, although she mourned, had the inner workings of her mind churning faster than the speed of the Flash. There was more to Selina's death here, Helena instinctively knew, and since her father was too overwrought, and perhaps too old, to deal with this mystery, she knew all too well that she wasn't. Helena knew that she had to solve the mystery surrounding her mother's death, and along with that, find out who her mother had truly been.  
  
Set with resolve, Helena set out to learn all about Gotham City. She read up on all of her history, the stories concerning No Man's Land, which had been like Gotham's exile from civilization; the stories of Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and the others who protected Gotham City from the thundering psychopaths that seemed to be born in that city day after day. She also learned of Arkham Asylum, where the most criminally insane and psychologically damaged were kept. The Asylum, that was her key to starting to unravel the whole mystery. That was the key to making a move to Gotham City. And so, Helena sent in her resume and was given a position within a week. Helena left Coast City, and her father Slam (who was now in the care of her half-brother Sammy) after two weeks, and moved into a trendy but tiny apartment on Gotham's Upper East Side. Looking into the history of the apartment, she had noticed that this very apartment had been lived in by a woman named Comrade Kitanya Menya Tatania Kirenski Alisov, an alias of Selina's, as Helena had learned from the extensive files of Catwoman that her father had kept in his library. It seemed to be the perfect place to start a life in Gotham, as well as her hunt for Selina's killer.  
  
Helena started her job at Arkham on her third day in Gotham, after getting perfectly settled into her apartment. She quickly bought herself a car (a sleek Maserati), a set of designer work clothes, and a membership at the nearest gym before beginning work.  
  
On her first day, she had gone through all of the files that Arkham had to offer in an attempt to see if her mother had any connections within Arkham Asylum. Anyone who had been an ally, or anyone who had been an enemy. The first names to pop up had been Two-Face, the Penguin, and Poison Ivy. But Two-Face had reformed years ago, and the Penguin had been assassinated by (it was suspected) a man named Lex Luthor. In any case, Helena had taken Poison Ivy as her first lead, learning as she had that Ivy and Catwoman had had years of rivalry and hatred between the two of them.  
  
Opening the door to her office, and taking a seat in her plush leather chair, Helena thought back to that first fateful meeting of hers with Dr. Pamela Isley, and how chilling it had been...  
  
Writer's Note: Hey all, this is my first attempt at a DCU-related fan fic, so all feedback is appreciated and asked for, whether they're positive of flamers! Thanks a lot, all! 


	2. First meeting with Poison Ivy

It had been a dismal, gloomy day when Helena Bradley had first met the beguiling botanist known to the world as Poison Ivy. Helena had come to Arkham Asylum, dressed in a more trendy versus professional garb, in a flirty, very light gray knee-length chiffon skirt, a lilac, unstructured tweed mini-blazer, and re-issued Manolo Blahnik Mary Janes. Her only ornament was a simple strand of light gray pearls around her slender, ivory throat.  
  
As Helena had walked down the corridors of Arkham, her heels clicking and clacking on the tiles, she heard a few catcalls from the inmates, some of them particularly obscene and threatening. The young woman ignored these. The things being shouted out didn't scare her in the least; they just annoyed her more than anything else. After a few moments she was lead to a thick glass door with metal framing. Helena turned to the guard questioningly, and he just shrugged.  
  
"She likes the green house," he said.  
  
"Not really surprised," Helena answered. "Do I go on in?"  
  
"Yeah. One of the other guards'll bring her in, and we'll both be here outside."  
  
"Great. All right then..." Helena pushed the door open and stepped into a room filled with exotic flowers and plants. It must have been a pleasant, sun-dappled room on bright days, though today's weather made Helena feel as though she had stepped into a tempestuous rainforest. Helena explored the small room for a moment, taking in the scent of hibiscus, jasmine, and gardenia before taking a seat on a wrought iron chair. The chair had plush, soft cushions upon it, and Helena settled back, pouring herself a cup of steaming white tea. After adding seven cubes of sugar, she took a sip and savored it, and then pulled out a thick file, one which she had taken from her father's library. In it was detailed almost everything that the public, as well as the GCPD, new about Dr. Pamela Isley.  
  
Doctor Pamela Isley had been a brilliant botanist turned deranged death- trap by not one, but two males whom she had known consecutively in her life. The first had been a man named Marc LeGrand, who had been a professor of Pamela's. The second had been the brilliant, but creepy, scientist that Pamela had been an intern for, Doctor Jason Woodrue, also known in some circles as the Floronic Man. The former man had romanced her, and had misguided her into stealing dangerous Egyptian herbs from a museum. These herbs were an untraceable poison, and he fed some of it to Pamela after she had stolen it for him, so that all links to his stealing the herbs were gone. Things didn't work out as they should have, though, and Pamela did not die. Rather, the poisoned herbs fused together with her own blood cells, making her immune to poisons and toxins. Jason Woodrue, on the other hand, started using an unsuspecting Pamela as a guinea pig in his own experiments. He drugged Pamela, and injected her with plant toxins, causing her to become something beyond human. This took the transformation that had started with Marc LeGrand a few steps further, giving her the ability to produce poisons and toxins, and giving her a poisonous kiss as well. The discovery of what she had become had fueled her with rage, and unsure of which man to blame, Pamela killed them both with her poisoned kiss, and from there onwards, had taken up the name Poison Ivy.  
  
She was about to continue on to another section of Poison Ivy's file when the door opened and a musky, sensual scent filled the air. Helena stood up and turned around, coming face to face with a green skinned goddess. Poison Ivy, in her late forties at best now, slinked into the room, and some of the vines that covered the walls and the ground came to life, slithering towards her and wrapping themselves around her sensuous body. She was dressed in a simple white cotton sheath, which made her sparkling green skin stand out in a fire of emerald glory. Her jade eyes bore right into Helena's aquamarine ones, and she gave the young woman a knowing, seductive, and slightly chilling smile. Helena, for her part, felt chilled to the bone. Poison Ivy exuded evil as though she were an orange blossom and evil was its sweet fragrance, cloying the air around her. Helena shuddered inwardly, but she kept her cool. Her mother had been the fearless Catwoman. Surely Helena could handle a dangerous sociopath in controlled environs.  
  
"Dr. Pamela Isley, I'm Dr. Helena Bradley," Helena said politely, taking a seat.  
  
Poison Ivy followed suit as some of the vines that were twirled around her came undone and started to form a chaise-lounge type seating for her. Ivy draped herself down; laying in a slightly seductive, though imposing, pose. "Please call me Ivy. Poison Ivy." Her voice poured out of her mouth like poisoned rose syrup, thick and sweet but horribly lethal. "So, Dr. Bradley, what is it you came here to discuss?"  
  
"It's not a discussion as much as it is the road to yours becoming a decent citizen again, Dr. Isley. I'm your new psychiatrist."  
  
"Oh, I see. I have to say, you are the first decent one I've had in a long time." Ivy said coyly.  
  
"Who was the last one?"  
  
"Dr. Harleen Quinzel."  
  
"Harley Quinn."  
  
"You're familiar with her?" Ivy asked, looking pleased.  
  
Helena nodded. She had read about Harley's history with her mother, and some of it was worse than Selina's history with Ivy. No one knew where Harley had disappeared off to, though she had been presumed dead. Helena briefly wondered if Harley was working as an outside agent for Poison Ivy. She'd have to start searching for her too, then. "I've heard of her. You don't move to Gotham not knowing about all the psycho-loonies running around here at night."  
  
"Of course not. And I'm sure that the Catwoman's daughter would definitely know who the bad guys were and were not."  
  
Helena looked up from the notes she was taking, alarmed. Her mouth opened in a little "o" of surprise, and Poison Ivy chuckled to herself.  
  
"You didn't take me for an idiot, did you, Helena? I'm sure you've read all about me in those notes of yours," Ivy said, pointing to the thick file that lay on a table between the two women.  
  
Helena picked up the notes defensively and put them into a large tote bag. She turned back to Ivy who chuckled once more and said, "You have grown into a beautiful young woman, though. The resemblance you bear towards your mother is striking, and frightening. Selina must have been proud to have given birth to such a stunner. Funny, though, I see nothing of Slam Bradley in you. I wonder why."  
  
Helena stared daggers into Ivy's mirthful eyes, suddenly wishing she could grab a shovel and pummel the bitch with it. She didn't quite appreciate Ivy saying anything about her family, and she was sure that Ivy knew it.  
  
"That's a cruel look you're giving me, Helena. I think I'm hurt. When you were younger, you were so fond of me. I wonder what changed."  
  
"You knew me when I was younger..."  
  
"Of course I did. Selina and I might not have been friends but that doesn't mean I didn't pay the occasional...social call."  
  
"What sort of social calls are we talking about here, Pamela?"  
  
"Oh, you know, the usual. Crime. Murder. Extortion. All that good stuff."  
  
"Nothing of which I'm sure my mother took part in."  
  
Poison Ivy scoffed. "Not after her return from the dead, no. She played little miss goody two-shoes, trying to protect the lower east side and all that good stuff. She was very much the Mrs. Batman. It was pathetic."  
  
"You much preferred it when she and Harley were rampaging through Gotham trying to kill Commissioner Gordon."  
  
"She was much more fun then, yes. I didn't deal with her then, but the stories Harley told me later on. Catwoman had a very dark side to her. One which I'm sure you must have acquired, especially since you took a position within Arkham. I'm sure you know of the many breakouts that have happened here? One administered by the Joker, Bane, Holiday. Tell me, Helena. Are you playing a huntress, trying to catch your mother's killer?"  
  
"It's not my job to do. That's why we have the GCPD, Pamela."  
  
"So, no vigilantism? No Catgirl or Hellcat for you?"  
  
"I don't think that it's really any of your business. As far as you and I are concerned, its I who will be asking the questions, and you who will be supplying the answers."  
  
"It will call out to you, you know. Just the way it called out to your mother. It's a cry for blood, Helena. A cry for vengeance. Blood cries for blood in more ways than you think. I assure you...you will accept on the mantle of the Cat."  
  
"I don't like cats, Dr. Isley."  
  
"That has nothing to do with this." Poison Ivy answered, her voice firm, cocky, and extrenmely confidant. There were undertones of menace in the voice, though. Undertones which chilled Helena to the bone. "It's an innate part of you. I never got to take my revenge on your mother, but rest assured, little girl, once you give in to it's call, I will do everything in my power to kill you, to take every last drop of your blood." Ivy's face had a murderous expression upon it, and the vines around her slithered and snaked out, coming close to Helena and caressing her. "Eye for an eye, little kitty, eye for an eye."  
  
Goosebumps crawled along Helena's flesh, and she shivered. She could feel her pulse racing and her heard throbbing. Ivy wouldn't kill her here, would she? She couldn't be that cruel, that evil. And it would definitely give Ivy a front seat spot on death row. Wouldn't it?  
  
Helena jumped out of her seat and moved back to the door, trying to calm her breathing. Ivy was insane. Completely and totally insane. No, Helena decided, Ivy wasn't insane. She was completely in her right mind. Ivy wasn't evil through insanity, she had a darkness that surpassed anything that Helena had thought she would ever come across. Ivy was evil incarnate, through and through.  
  
Poison Ivy chuckled at Helena's fear. It was a murderous laugh, a hardened cruel laugh brought about by a life that had felt betrayal, a person who had spent years in an asylum, a person who had run a vicious crime spree with another woman who was truly out of her mind.  
  
Ivy's laughter was the last thing that Helena heard as she grabbed her files and her bags, and ran out the door and down the corridor, praying that her next meeting with Ivy wouldn't be as venomous and disconcerting. 


End file.
